


Starlight

by Brian J Christopher (ikudou)



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Drama, Feels, Fix-It, Gen, M/M, Nexus - Freeform, Romance, Songfic, Star Trek: Generations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-05
Updated: 2013-07-05
Packaged: 2017-12-17 17:59:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/870352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ikudou/pseuds/Brian%20J%20Christopher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spock always considered trying to locate the Nexus illogical, and futile. He didn't come looking for it; one universe over, it found him. And it was hungry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Starlight

**Author's Note:**

> I was having Spock!Prime FEELS and watching "Generations". This happened.
> 
> Also, this ship is taking me far away :D  
> Lyrics by Muse.

  
**Starlight**

  
 _I'll be chasing your starlight  
Until the end of my life  
I don't know if it's worth it anymore_

 _I'll never let you go  
If you promise not to fade away_

(Muse, "Starlight")

Jim is dreaming. There's no doubt about it. He's dreaming vividly, like he used to dream... Before. Where? When?

No matter. It is a very peculiar dream, in any case. He is watching a tiny spaceship trying to escape the pull of a powerful energy beam. He can hear engines rumbling desperately, and thinks: _Evasive maneuvers are useless at this range._

Then he hears a voice. It sounds calm, resigned: "All right. I know what you are. You prey on the likes of me. And you are in desperate need of sustenance." 

Jim thinks: _No. Don't give up. Better to die than to live like this._

A hand. An old, wizened hand, reaching forward to touch. Then, after a moment of confusion, Jim can hear an echo of a thought... No. Rather, an emotion: "Yes. Yes! You can have me, you greedy thing. You know what I want. Give it to me, then."

Jim wakes with a start. There's something here, something new. And alive.

Impossible. He should get back to sleep.

* * *

There is a creature in the woods. And it is sick, gravely injured. Jim feels it in his bones, can sense it even when it's not howling desperately at the moon in the dead of night.

Antonia's a bit frightened. Perhaps he should go investigate. Another day, perhaps.

* * *

It's so peaceful here, at the edge of the woods; the sky is clear, black-blue, bathing Jim's little cabin in starlight. It stretches far and wide as far as his eyes can see. Even the lonely creature has fallen silent, Jim realizes: the night is simply too beautiful not to enjoy it.

He should get back inside. Some dinner for Antonia is in order.

* * *

"Can you hear that?" he asks as they're walking side by side along a narrow grassy path. 

The injured creature - who, Jim knows, is getting worse by the minute - is crying. He can't think of any other word for these soft, pitiful sounds. It's sobbing into its long paws, thinned with age, but as hard as it tries, no tears come. The beast is, after all, not human, and therefore incapable of producing tears. 

A silly thought. So obvious; logical.

Jim stumbles forward, his foot caught in a protruding root. Antonia catches his elbow and looks up at him, puzzled. 

It's the first time he's ever seen a root on this path before. Wait, was there even a path here?

* * *

"Stop it! I can't stand it!" Jim puts his hands over his ears. The sounds don't seem to stop no matter what time of day it is.

"Jim? What's wrong?"

He knows he's scaring her, shouldn't be scaring her. Why is he doing this?

The creature is dying. Surely he must help it. For it is, indeed, helpless, Jim has no doubt about it. It is lonely and scared... No. Not scared. It's just that its loneliness is so profound it fears its own depth of emotion. It shouldn't be this way. It must control itself. 

But how on Earth does Jim know that?

"Jim, it's okay. It's going to be okay," Antonia whispers, and Jim, sighing, goes back to bed. He doesn't think he can do anything, anyway. It's not his job to help the helpless, not anymore.

* * *

He decides to stay in the next couple of nights. Antonia's cooking is not that bad.

* * *

The sounds are almost gone. The creature is almost gone. And it seems to have achieved some form of peace, of serenity. It's lived a long and full life, seen and experienced more than most creatures half its age. Also, it is shameful to go like this, curled into a ball under some half-dead tree, howling for help that won't come.

 _I've always known I'll die alone._

* * * 

Jim wakes at the crack of dawn to find his face wet with tears. Antonia is still asleep by his side, soft and warm and perfectly content. 

Jim is suddenly angry, so mad for a moment he thinks he is going to punch her sleeping face. How can she remain so - so ignorant of an utterly helpless being howling its soul out, silently now in the face of imminent death because there's no-one to even listen?

Jim runs out of the cabin and into the woods. _Where are you?_ he asks, quick and alert. In his mind, the crying is barely audible. Jim's head spins, and he falls, tripped by that same treacherous root. He feels dizzy, disoriented, lost. Can't seem to figure out which way is up and which way is down. He's lost all sense of gravity. 

_What is happening to me?_

The creature sniffs at the warm night air - and then it calls out. A moan, a low one, then a little louder, like it knows help is on the way and is trying to signal him, dignity be damned.

 _Don't!_ Jim shouts into nowhere. _Save your strength! I'll find you, just don't... Don't fade away. Just wait for me a moment longer, and I'll find you._

He crawls through what feels like dirt and debris on his hands and knees. His palms are cut and bleeding, and he can't remember the last time he was in any way hurt, but he's hurting now, badly. He has to stop and catch his breath before he realizes that it's not his hands that ache, but something different altogether.

The creature is mewling now, somewhere ahead, subdued and resigned. Its mewls sound like an echo of Jim's name repeated over and over again. 

_I'm here!_ Jim roars. _Come to me! I'm here! Don't you dare die now that I'm so close!_

The spinning stops. Jim regains control of all his senses and, as his eyes adjust to the dim light, he sees a large black panther lying under an ancient oak-tree. Its eyes are dark and hollow, skin shallow. It's such a sad sight that Jim feels tears overcoming him again, and then he's crying, crying so hard he's sure he's never cried before. Feels like a century's worth of liquid is pouring out of his eyes.

"I'm here," he whispers, crawling over to the old, wounded, battered animal. "Here. Just... Let me help."

* * *

The creature is terribly thin, but it is still rather heavy. It takes all of Jim's strength to carry it over to the cabin. 

Antonia runs out onto the porch, looking both frightened and exasperated. 

"What is this thing?" she demands, aghast, and Jim's never heard her use this kind of tone before. It doesn't sound like her at all. "Look at its fangs!"

Jim gives the beast's muzzle a soft look, feeling fondness he can't quite explain. It's bared its fangs and is trying to growl.

"Don't you worry, big cat," he says gently, rubbing his hand along the thin, sallowed neck. Oh, wait a moment. Where's his dog? Butler. Yes. They used to have such a good time running around the woods chasing rabbits together. Well, no matter. "Don't worry. It's just Antonia."

* * *

Antonia is mad at him. It is quite surreal. They never argue about anything. Then again, Jim hadn't tried to make a pet of a huge wild feline before. 

"Can't you just let it die in peace?" Antonia begs. "You can see that it's so old it barely walks, can't you? And you're letting it sleep on the carpet."

Jim is down on all fours by the cat's side, trying to teach it to eat out of the bowl (which he's carved himself, by the way!). The panther, if anything, seems slightly amused by his antics. But it won't eat or drink, and Jim has to make sure it does, otherwise it's going to die soon, and he's not letting it happen.

"I'm no vet, but I... I think I can make him get better," Jim mumbles. "Oh, yeah, it's... It's a he, Antonia. He's a good old boy, and he's going to live long and... Oh come on, now you're eating? Why d'I even bother!"

Even as he's scolding the he-cat, he's smiling, bright and unrestrained.

* * *

"It... All right, _he_ \- doesn't like me."

"You just have to be nice to him, that's all. He's a cat, and cats are very perceptive creatures. You don't like him much, either, and he can sense it. Relax. He's not that bad for a giant feline predator."

"He won't eat the rabbit stew."

"What now?"

"I said, he won't eat the meat."

"Oh. Huh. I guess you're right, he does seem to prefer mushrooms and porridge. He's a weird fellow, aren't you, my old friend?"

The cat purrs. Actually purrs at him, once-dead eyes glinting, and Jim - impossibly - sees starlight reflected in them. He blinks - no, it's just the flames from the hearth. 

His cat rolls onto its side and tilts its head sideways, and Jim lies down next to it, laughing with delight, hugs the beast gingerly with his whole body. His friend is hot like the flame, and in this single moment Jim feels so happy he can't even form words.

"Yes," he whispers, kissing the top of his cat's head. "You're one peculiar fellow, my friend."

* * *

Antonia is avoiding him. Or maybe he is avoiding her, Jim can't tell, and doesn't much care at this point. He can't get enough of his old new friend's company. The cat is healthy enough now to walk and even run a little, and they play around, rolling together in the tall grass of his backyard. Though the cat is still refusing to hunt, it seems to have a knack for finding rare herbs and mushrooms out in the woods. Jim laughs and smiles and feels more alive than... 

Than what?

"I never knew I'd missed you until I heard you that night," he says one day when they're lounging by the lake. Jim's head is nestled between his cat's front paws. Its fur has gotten rich and soft again. Jim enjoys running his hands through it. 

The cat mewls quietly by way of an answer and nips gently at his ear. 

"I don't know where you came from or where I even know you from - God knows I'm more of a dog person, by the way - but I can't even imagine how I've lived without you all this time."

There's something nagging at him, a question or an answer to a question, and Jim struggles to catch the thought and give it voice before it fades away. It passes just as quickly as it came, but his cat is still with him, nuzzling his earlobe and purring softly. 

Jim feels safe, loved. It is a long-lost, powerful feeling, and he wonders why in hell he's even questioning it. He turns his head up and places a kiss on the tip of his cat's nose. 

"Wanna spar?" he asks.

* * *

The hearth is cold. Jim checks everywhere inside and outside the cabin and nods to himself. It's official, then: Antonia's gone for good. 

"I suppose I should be said," he says to his cat who's sniffing about dutifully. "But I'm not. Is it strange? Am I being selfish? Insensitive? I used to be so in love with her, and now... Who is Antonia, anyway?"

He chuckles and shakes his head self-deprecatingly. 

"I do not know who Antonia is, or was." 

Jim frowns. He turns around, momentarily confused, but there's just the cat looking at him with wise, watchful eyes.

"All right," Jim shrugs. "I'll go out and chop us some wood, and you can take a nap in my bed if you're cold. Now that Antonia's left, grass stains on the sheets is fair game."

* * *

Jim wakes slowly, content to just lie there in the cocoon of warm paws. 

"Jim," the cat says. "I have always been and always shall be..."

Jim blinks the sleep out of his eyes and turns around to face his companion. He thought he heard someone speak; must've been another dream.

"You're so warm," he whispers, reaching up to pet those thick, sensitive whiskers. "So good to me. You are... You are my greatest friend. I wouldn't wish for another."

The cat yawns. It looks like it's smiling. Jim scritches behind its pointy ears.

"Are you hungry? I know I am, but I don't want to get up just yet. Could you maybe..."

He thinks he's dozed off, because when he opens his eyes again there is a steaming cup of coffee on the nightstand. He blinks. But... How did it... 

Never mind. Perhaps he's still so sleepy he forgot he'd made it.

"Hey, old boy!" he calls out. His cat comes stalking out of the kitchen, looking sated. "Oh! You've already eaten. Good. Come sit with me, then."

* * *

There is a 3-D chess set on top of the mantlepiece. As long as Jim can remember (and he doesn't remember much beyond the beast's appearance, somehow), he never played chess in this house. Wasn't even sure Antonia played... What? He was totally alone here but his feline friend. He couldn't play chess with a cat, could he?

"I know it's weird, playing myself," he explains, brushing dust off the neatly carved pieces, "but I think you'll find it logical that I want to practice even if I don't have a partner."

* * *

Someone is playing the blacks. 

Moreso, someone is dangerously close to beating him in approximately ten moves.

"What d'you make of that, huh?" Jim pets his cat's back absent-mindedly, and as his hand falls off to the side he can feel a hearbeat where there shouldn't be a heart. 

"I believe you are losing, Jim. You _are_ out of practice." 

"You know, I was kind of joking about that, but yes, I believe I am. That last move was unwise, wasn't it?"

"Yes. Quite illogical, considering your Queen's present position."

Jim smiles. 

"I don't think..."

He pauses. Looks around. The cat is sleeping, or at least pretending to be asleep, its... His paws stretched over Jim's thighs.

Jim shakes his head.

"What is happening to me?" he demands. "Am I going mad, living here all by myself? But I don't feel lonely."

"You are never alone."

"No, I'm not. Not while I'm with you."

"Correct."

Jim moves his Queen out of immediate harm's way.

"Why don't you see, Jim?" someone asks.

"See... What do I need to see?"

"Me, for who I am."

"You're my friend."

"Precisely, my dear Captain."

Captain?

Jim closes his eyes, and when he opens them, he sees starlight.


End file.
